


Let the Pictures Soak

by SmallSith



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Widow Sauron, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sauron Doesn't Get To Have Nice Things, Suffering, The Author Regrets Nothing, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallSith/pseuds/SmallSith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes as a wisp of spirit in the ashes of his kingdom, and Sauron despairs. There is nothing left for him in Arda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Pictures Soak

He wakes as a wisp of spirit in the ashes of his kingdom, and Sauron despairs. This is his end, and in it, he has nothing. He has lost his divinity, his power is gone. He cannot even take shape anymore- a wandering spirit devoid of flesh or purpose. He cannot even die. This purgatory he languishes in will last until the world's end, until he has lost all of himself he still has left to lose.

All that he has built is rubble. All that he has toiled so hard for is gone. He finds, too, even his mind is slipping through his grasp like smoke through fingers, drifting away as he tries to clutch it to him.

He has lost his home- Mordor is gone, the same as Numenor and Angband and Utumno went before it, cast into ruins long ago. He wonders, distantly, if he should be numb to loss now, having suffered so much of it already. And yet each new joy ripped from his breast tears Sauron asunder anew, as if every loss could be the first if it were not for the bone-deep ache of ages-old grief that tears at him even whilst each new fall leaves fresh wounds upon his spirit.

His home is gone, again. His friends of old have all been long since slain. His love has been lost to him for so long the world scarcely remembers the scars he left on its surface. His children, the wolves, they are all dead. He floats among the ashes of his kingdom, and if he could still cry, he would weep for all that he has lost. But a fleshless spirit has no tears, and so he suffers all the more.

He turns his gaze to the sky above, searching it for some sign of the Void in which the only one he has ever loved is trapped. But there is no sign, only the stars twinkling in the dark. There is nothing left for him in Arda.

**Author's Note:**

> i love suffering and regret nothing : )
> 
> title is from the song _Doing The Right Thing_ by Daughter. you should listen to it while you read this. it'll make it even sadder. you will cry, i promise.


End file.
